


Every Day Your Face Becomes New

by enigmatic_vagabond



Category: Babii, offgun
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Face blindness, M/M, Model!Off, Painter!Gun, Painting, offgun - Freeform, slow-burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25786462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmatic_vagabond/pseuds/enigmatic_vagabond
Summary: A story about a painter who has face blindness and is meeting different guys every painting session. Little did he know it's the same person since the first session. A story about trust and faith.
Relationships: Off Jumpol Adulkittiporn/Gun Atthaphan Phunsawat
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, before you begin reading, I apologize if there are mistakes in my short story. I researched face blindness first before writing this, and honestly, I can't write the real face blindness in my story because it's a complex disorder so I have decided to write a fictional version of Gun's face blindness. And if I ever, and should I ever write something or anything offensive and insensitive, you can message me anytime and I'll apologize immediately, and maybe delete or edit what I have written. I will not try to defend myself and take your "constructive" criticisms as help. Thank You and enjoy reading!!

“Don’t move,” I told my model who keeps on moving. It’s difficult for me to create portrait paintings when people like _him_ can’t cooperate. “Why are you moving so much?” _Is he uncomfortable? Am I making him uncomfortable?_ I’ve been like this since when I was a child, specifically in preschool. People would label me as _snobbish_ because I don’t talk to people, let alone look at them, much less interact and socialize with them. Maybe because I’m shy, or maybe because I don’t trust other people that easily. My parents and I only knew that I have face blindness when I reached 3rd grade. And I was born with it. I kept asking them of their names because if you live with face blindness, every day, people become other people. My type of face blindness is unique; my pediatrician told my parents that one in a trillion people would likely get this condition. _I guess unlucky me?_

He goes by telling them that the people I see every day, their faces change unless I see them about a million times. I would either don’t remember them or end up ignoring them. And it’s true I hardly recognize people. And of course, the dreaded question people always ask. _So why did you chose to paint faces when you have face blindness?_ Well, it’s my way to cope with my abnormality.

I started painting my parents’ faces when I reached high school so that I can remember them; they were almost always out of the country for their business enterprise. But just before I graduated from Art School, they both died in an accident. So I was left alone in this big mansion away from the city, and isolated myself from the outside world. The only person I can trust right now is my cousin, Oab. Don’t worry; I can see his face.

Oab and I grew up and attended the same school together; people don’t know that we’re related. Sometimes they assume we’re in a relationship. Besides, Oab is straight, and I am not. I can remember his face because I see him every day for ten years already, but one day he had this haircut and when he went home, I started screaming at his face, because I thought he was an intruder. Believe me, it was a drastic change of appearance. _“_ Master Gun, your afternoon snacks are ready.” He said, he would always call me _Master_ for some reason and I don’t mind it. “Let’s take a break shall we?” I asked my model. As we were eating, I noticed that he was feeling a little bit uncomfortable. “Are you okay?” He nodded. “Are you sure?” I insisted.

“I’m just a little bit nervous because your reputation as a portrait painter is massive in the big city.” Oh, I almost forgot, after graduating Art School, many gallery-owners wanted to have an exhibit of my collections but I all turned them down. I stood up after hearing what he said. No, I’m neither mad nor angry, I’m just a little disappointed with myself. If I didn’t have face blindness would everything be different today? Just imagine a life without remembering other people; your friends, your family, and of course you might not remember yourself. “Let’s continue,” I told him.

As we were walking to my art room, I suddenly turned away from my model. Here’s the thing, if they introduced themselves, I can remember their faces but if I turn around for too long, it’s either their faces change, they become blurry, or worse I don’t recognize them anymore. “Oh god.” I let out a groan. I turned to my model and gave him a worried smile. I looked at him to make sure the face I remember is still in _his face._ Lo and behold, it’s not the face I remember, anymore. I hit my forehead and started walking towards him. I held him by the shoulders and squeezed in tightly. “I’m sorry, you have to go home.” He gave me a confusing look, yes; I could see his eyebrows perked. Even though it’s blurry, I can sense he’s disappointed, and well, confused. He doesn’t know I have face blindness. And I don’t have the intention to tell every model I paint that I have face blindness.

Oab escorted him outside the house. As soon as he returned to my art room, he talked to me. “You turned around for too long, I guess?” I nodded. He was leaning beside the door holding his box of paint and brushes. “See, I can’t even finish the painting.” I took the canvass from the easel and showed it to Oab. He started laughing. The painting I made is only the model’s head with some unfinished hair on the side and no defining facial features. If there’s one thing that I have to look at to remember someone else’s face is that I must know or remember their facial features. Like Oab, he has thick eyebrows and narrow eyes, and I can remember him easily. And besides, I’ve been seeing him for ten years already.

“That’s comedy gold.” He finally stopped laughing. “I might paint outside; if you need something, call me or you can just go by the lake later.” And I gave him an assuring nod and smile. Unlike me, Oab is a landscape painter, he has a gallery in the nearby city and I would visit it with him. I packed up my things and cleaned my art room. This room was made because of me; my parents thought that if I had a career in Painting might as well have a room for me to work on. The walls to my art room are full of unfinished faces; you will see a lot of paintings that only has eyes in it. It looks creepy but I feel happy just by looking at it. Normally, the models I invite to my house are creeped out but I always tell them that they shouldn’t worry about a thing, except for Oab who likes to prank and tell jokes about my unfinished paintings.

After cleaning, I decided to visit Oab at the lake. His easel is situated along the swampy ground of the lake and he’s wearing his grey boots because it’s wet in his location. “Must you be that close to the lake?” I yelled; there was a big distance between us. “Well, I wanted to capture the essence and beauty of the lake.” Although he didn’t scream I fully understand what he said. Oab is very passionate about his paintings, like me. But his is different, when you look at his paintings, you could feel every stroke of his brushes and I’m certain that per stroke there is a story behind it.

“Do you have plans on Friday?” He asks me. And I almost forgot, it’s my parents’ death anniversary and Oab is always there to remind me every year. It’s not like I don’t want to remember their death but when you experience death in the family, you would want to forget that feeling of sadness and depression, that’s why I sometimes suppress and repress. He stopped painting and looked at me; I know the look he’s giving me. It’s the _“you’ll be fine”_ look. “I’ll be going to the city and I will order some flowers for them.” I gave Oab a faint smile and he continued painting. I told Oab to come home soon because the sun is about to set and the lake is kind of dangerous at night, not to mention the mosquitoes that bite.

As soon as I returned to the house, I went to my parents’ room, just to talk with myself, but honestly, I wish they were still alive. “Hi, Mom and Dad.” I awkwardly start. “It’s been five years already. Although I can’t remember your faces, my paintings of both you still remind me of the days we’re still together.” I rummaged through dad’s old trunk and there were paintbrushes and art materials untouched. _How come I didn’t found these?_ There was a letter underneath the palette, I grabbed it and read it. It was a letter from both of them.

“Dear Atthapan,

If you ever find these art materials, it’s yours to keep.

Keep in mind that these are precious to your father so please,

use them well. It’s time for you to move on with what’s holding

you back. I know it’s scary to trust other faces but trust and

believe, that someone out there will help you realize the beauty

in enigma. Always paint your feelings out and if you ever finish

a painting, look at it properly and take it all in the beauty and

the essence of your subject.

Love, Mom, and Dad.”

I cried after reading the letter, but I know dad wrote this. If mom ever wrote this I would be bawling already, but I know Dad tried to lighten me up with this letter. I then heard Oab coming home and I immediately grabbed the art materials in the trunk and set them in my art room. I went down to eat dinner with Oab, he cooks for us and I wash the dishes. It’s a drag but it’s the only household chore I can contribute. “Tomorrow, I’ll be going to the market to buy things for our fridge and to stock up a few canned goods as well. Are you coming?” Oab asks me while he’s looking at the empty freezer in the fridge. “Sure, I’ll be going to the flower shop to order some flowers,” I replied as I dried my hands.

It was already 8 PM and I still have some spare time to paint. I grabbed my dad’s art materials and used them to create a quick painting of myself. Honestly, knowing that I have face blindness it scares me that what if one day I can’t remember my face. What if one day as I stare myself in the mirror I’ll be questioning who’s the person looking at me? Sometimes when I paint my models, it’s hard to conjure images in my mind that’s why I focus on their faces first. However, their hairstyle, height, or even their glasses can help me remember their faces, and relying on facial features alone can’t help, except for Oab’s small eyes and thick brows. Remember what I said about how Oab can get the essence of a landscape he’s painting? _I wish I can get the essence of the people I paint._

After an hour or so I finally painted myself, I looked at it and I can see myself. I am happy with the results, I am happy that I used my father’s art materials and I am mostly happy that I’m starting to finally find the enjoyment of painting and of course the essence of it. I’m just hoping I can find someone who I can share what I’m feeling right now. I went down right after painting to drink water, and I found Oab’s painting in the living room, it’s not yet finished but when you look at it it’s mesmerizing. “The lake behind this house gives me solace.” Oab startled me as soon as he saw me looking at his work. “The azure color of it makes me calm.” He looked at me and smiled. “You already know the reason behind it but I’ll reiterate it.” Oab started to paint landscapes because that’s the only memory he had with his parents. They died when he was 5 years old. And at a young age, Oab’s escape pod is the cliffside near their house in his hometown. There he found peace with nature.

“Nature has cunning ways of finding our weakest spot.” _Call Me By Your Name._ It was a movie reference. “Whenever I’m with nature, I always find myself thinking about my parents and I’ll end up crying at night.” He gave me a faint smile and I can see he’s teary-eyed. “But with painting, I’m mustering all of my feelings through my brush and let the strokes tell my stories.” He messed up my hair and told me to go to sleep because we have an early day tomorrow. I wish I could be strong as Oab, and I wish I can do what he does. “Good night Gun, sleep well.” Oab left me in the living room for a moment to look at the unfinished painting in front of me. Sometimes what is unfinished can already mean something. And sometimes what is finished doesn’t mean anything at all, at least for me.


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up the next day with Oab’s fresh brewed coffee; I always like my coffee strong. “Oh, don’t forget. After you order the flowers we’ll meet at my gallery, I have something to take care of first before we head home.” He says while looking for his car keys. I can hear his muffled whines while looking for it. He is always this clumsy with his things except for his art materials. “Ah, found it!” He exclaimed. “Let’s go.” He motioned.

As we were traversing the highway, Oab played some music. _“All around me now, there’s nothing but pain.”_ It started with a slow beat with some melodic tone in it. It sounded heavy and painful. As I listened to it I can’t help but get swayed with the message of the song. At the end of the chorus, I took a deep breath and I felt exhausted just by listening to. _“Walking away to live a lie.”_ The song ended with those six words. And I kept asking myself, _am I living a lie?_ I shook my head. I’d like to think that I am not living a lie but when I do, I hope someone points out to me because I hate the thought of living my life with lies and deception. My eyes are already deceiving me, what more if I deceived myself without knowing.

Oab dropped me first at a flower shop just three blocks away from his studio. This flower shop is my mom’s favorite shop because it’s the only one that sells mallows. The owner of the shop is a good friend of my parents. “Is that you Gun?” Ms. Mae was shocked when I entered the shop. I stood there at the front door, hands dangling on the sides, a knitted scarf along my neck, and a neon green bonnet on my head. I honestly looked like a lost kid. “Yes, Auntie Mae,” I replied. _It is me, it is he. Gun._ I sighed and walked towards the counter where she was mending a plant’s twig. Auntie Mae has been a florist ever since my parents met her. She sells flowers that have meanings.

“What made you come here?” She asks like she doesn’t know I always come here on the exact date. “I need to order some flowers for my parents’ death anniversary.” She sighed. She stopped mending her plants and went to her office found at the back of the store. “Here,” She puts down a vase with mallows, bromeliads, and lilies on it. “These are your mother’s favorite.” Auntie Mae said, and I kind of heard her voice broke a little. “But one thing your mother never said to you is that your father’s favorites are bromeliads.” She continues. I didn’t know dad has a favorite flower. Whenever I come here, I always order the same, lilies. They mean freedom.

“How much for all of these?” I asked and she smiled and tapped my shoulders. “It’s my gift to you. Free of charge.” My eyes widened and I was confused but at the same time, I felt like I was about to cry. I clenched my teeth and said my gratitude to Auntie Mae. “Gun, crying is not a sign of weakness.” She said to me while continuing mending her plant. “But it is a sign of courage.” She looks up to me and smiled. “In this world full of chaos and adversity, it is brave to show vulnerability and weakness.” I gave Auntie Mae a half-smile and bowed so that she can’t see that I am about to cry. “Thank you, Auntie Mae.” I waved her goodbye as I exit the shop.

As a small person with a petite stature, holding this big ass vase was a mistake. So I have to put it down as I wade through the busy streets of Bangkok. I decide to take a short cut and walk through the park. _This vase is heavy._ I wanted to call Oab but I think he’s busy buying groceries. “Gun?” A familiar voice but a blurry face comes up to me. I squinted to conjure a face in my mind. “It’s me, Jane!” She squeals. My eyes widened. Jane is a former classmate of mine, her medium is sculpting. Yes, even though she’s small and _cute_ like me, she decided to be a sculptor. “Oh, I almost forgot you have face blindness.” She cackles. We sat down at a nearby bench at the park.

“It’s been so long since we met!” She starts while eating her melting ice cream. “I set the vase on my side and it’s taller than me if I’m sitting down. “So, what are those flowers for?” She asks. “It’s my parents’ death anniversary the next day. And I bought these for them.” She had this worrisome look when I replied to her. “You don’t have to worry, I’m okay, Jane.” _I’d like to think I am._ She gave me a big smile and started rummaging through her purse. “Okay, we need to have a selfie. It’s been eon of years since we last met.” I laughed. “Jane, we graduated five years ago.” She scoffed and glared at me, typical Jane. “I know but this calls for a photo!” She clicked the camera and took a photo of us.

“Anyways, I’ve been struggling painting. How about you?” I asked her while she’s tucking her phone into her purse all while licking her ice cream. “Oh, I found this studio wherein the models are very professional.” She starts getting giddy. “And one of my senior’s models is a portrait model.” I was taken aback what she said; I’m not saying I’m full of aghast, just that I suddenly felt interested _in this model._ Jane then gave me a calling card of the studio. “Just call them they will send you portrait models.” She says. After a few moments of chitchatting, we ended our conversation with a good note. Jane now has sculpture classes but still attends classes at the studio she mentioned. Someday, she wants to make a sculpture as Michelangelo did with David.

I parted ways with Jane after our talk. The vase is still heavy, so I’m hugging it to avoid falling and breaking the glass vase. Thankfully, I managed to reach Oab’s studio. “Wait, you carried that?” He says while laughing. “Yes, Oab. I carried this heavy ass vase.” He can’t stop smiling; he’s in the reception area of his gallery while checking his computer. “You could’ve texted me.” He said while typing something. I walked near the area to see what he is doing. “Oh, in February, I might go home.” He looked at me and gave me an awkward smile. Kind of like those children who wants something from their parents.

“Oab, you don’t have to ask for my permission. I am not your guardian.” He shook his head. “No, I’m not asking for your permission. What I want to ask is, are you okay if I leave you for a month or so?” Oh, my eyebrows perked. “Sure,” I said reluctantly. “Are you sure?” Major emphasis on the word _sure._ “Yes, I’m pretty sure I can manage myself Oab. I’m already 26 years old.” I took the vase from the front door and put it beside the reception area. Oab is still typing on his computer when I decided to look around his gallery. “Hey is this the river we used to go to when we were in 5th grade?” I asked him, and he nodded. The river in this painting holds so much memory just like the water in it. I still remember when we waded through the strong current of the river just to cross to the other side. _Other side._ I thought. Funny how I’ve always been stuck on the other side while everyone around me has already crossed it _._

I looked around at his paintings and it feels nostalgic seeing his work. It feels like for the past five years, I’ve been robbed seeing these places again. Maybe mom and dad were right, that I need to move on with what I’m feeling and with what I’m dealing with. “Oab,” I spoke and he looked at me. “I think I’m ready to do something life-changing.” He looked shocked, but I don’t blame his reaction. “What do you mean?” He’s curious. “Jane, my friend, told me that there was this model that I can hire.” Oab put his hand on his chest and leaned backward. “Who are you?” He sarcastically asks me. “You never hire models! Models would go to you not the other way around.” He continues.

“But I think a small change could make a difference.” A small change would make a difference. Little by little I’ll reclaim the freedom that I lost, I’ll achieve my ambitions in life and be resilient in the face of adversity. I looked at the flowers I bought at Auntie Mae’s shop. The lilies represent freedom, the mallows represent ambition, and the bromeliads, like my father, represent resilience. I looked at Oab and gave him my widest smile.

The next week came in a blur. Oab and I went to the cemetery to visit my parents. And of course, I brought with me the flowers I bought from Auntie Mae. I laid the mallows in my mom’s tombstone, the bromeliads in my dad’s, and the lilies in between them. I say a little prayer and just stood there talking to them for a moment while Oab was at his parents’ graves. After a minute of silence, he silently stood beside me. “Mallows, huh?” He smiles. “Yes, it was my mom’s favorite. It means ambition.” I told Oab. “Mom was very ambitious with her work. She always strived hard for our family, for me.” Oab then pointed the bromeliads. “And those are?” He asked me curiously. “Bromeliads. They mean resilience. And finally, the lilies.” I took a long pause. “Freedom.” Oab looks at me and smiled.

After visiting our parents we decided to go home. “I might call the studio Jane told me.” I broke the silence between us, while Oab drove. He gave me a muffled _hmm._ I took out the calling card from my bag and dialed the number on my phone. After a few rings, the person on the other line answered. “Hello? Is this Gordova Studio?” The lady on the phone said yes. I asked her if there are available models for me to paint, she said there’s one available. She then continued if I would like to hire him tomorrow already. “That early?” I was shocked when she said that, but the sooner better. “Ok, I’ll let him know.” The lady answered. I hung up the phone and I saw Oab’s jaw dropped. “Again, what did you do to my cousin?” He joked and I just shrugged.

“To be honest, all my life I’ve been isolating myself in my art room and when I found my parents’ letter and told me that I should move on, maybe for once, I’ll take their advice.” I looked outside the car window and the skies are dark. “Maybe this time I’ll make a difference, not only because of my parents’ wishes but because I want to change for myself.” The dark skies began crying. “How about your face blindness?” I turned towards his direction. “What about it?” I asked him while he turns on the wipers to clear the droplets from the windshield. “I mean will you tell your model about that?” I thought for a second. “I don’t think he must know.”

I looked at the falling droplets in the window, racing down who gets to reach the bottom first. “Besides, it’s a painter-model relationship. As if I’m trying to get in his pants.” I laughed and Oab slapped my head jokingly. “Wow, the minute you said you wanted to change, I didn’t know it’s this drastic!” He sarcastically screams at me. We were just laughing on our way home.

The following day, my art room was all set. I’ll be using my dad’s paintbrushes and my acrylic paints. I set up my easel at the brightest part of the room; I took out one canvass from my storage room and my so-called _painter’s chair._ As I was setting up, Oab and an unknown person, to me, presumably, the model came in. The model was tall and stylish. His hair is combed and parted on each side. He has earrings for accessories and is wearing a brown suit and pants. His first two buttons were unbuttoned, he then fake coughed hinting that his eyes were up in his face. I was focusing on his face, conjuring an image so I can start. He held out his hands and I shook hands with him. His hands are firm but soft. Gentle, not rough on the edges, just a hand you can hold to. A hand you can— _wait, what I am thinking?_ I snapped out from my imagination and introduced myself. “My name is Gun.” Short and concise, no need for a long intro. “Off.” He said, also short and concise.

“Ok before we could start,” I took a pause and saw Oab at the doorstep of my art room drinking his soda. “I have face blindness.” And I kid you not; Oab spits all the soda all over the floor. He looked shocked by what he heard. “Uhm, excuse me, can we talk?” He motioned me to go outside for _a talk_. “I thought it’s not necessary to tell him about your face blindness?” He told me as he air quoted what I said the other day. “I know but, I think it’s important for me to disclose him about it,” I tell Oab as he wipes the soda out of his lips. “And I think it’s for the better. I mean at some point it’s going to be difficult for me to paint him because he’s face suddenly becomes blurry.” I took a peek inside my art room and Off was just admiring my unfinished paintings. “Ok, I get it. Have fun” He sarcastically says. “Before you go, could you at least clean the mess you made.” I laughed and Oab gave me the middle finger. _Rude_.

I entered my art room and told Off he could sit at the chair provided for him. As soon as he sat he took off the brown suit, all that’s left is the white long sleeve that was underneath his coat. “Shall we begin?” He says. As I was painting him, I can’t help but look at his eyes. His eyes are narrow like Oab’s. I can’t see any facial features except his eyes. _This is going to be tough._

“So what do I look like?” He asks me out of nowhere. “What do you mean?” I replied. “You said earlier that you have face blindness. So, I was wondering, in your point of view, what do I look like?” _A mess, honestly._ I wish I could say that to him but I don’t want to be rude to him. “Honestly, I can’t describe you yet,” I told him. “Do you see those unfinished paintings there?” He looked at them and nodded. “Well, I can’t finish a painting because of my face blindness. That’s why I have to concentrate hard for me to finish one painting.” I turned to my canvass and continued painting. “And your face right now is blurry.” I chuckled.

I started painting at around eight in the morning, and it’s already noon and we have to eat our lunch. I told Off that he will be eating with us because that’s what I usually do with all the past models that come into the house. The city is at least an hour away from our house, and it’s a hassle if he goes back and forth just to eat, and delivery is not an option. Oab prepared the lunch, expected, and I’ll be doing the dishes.

After eating we resumed our painting session. Honestly, it’s coming to an end. I could see Off’s facial features for some reason. I started painting his crease-less eyes first and they look stunning. And not at least one of the past models I painted has eyes that are these beautiful. I bobbed my head to the right and leaned back to look at my painting. Oab then entered the art room to see my progress and he looked shocked. He gave me an assuring nod and Off looks weirded out. “What’s happening?” He asks; you could hear his curiosity in his voice. “Not much, not much,” Oab says while sipping his afternoon tea. I continued painting his eyebrows and pointed nose. His lips were hard to paint at this moment because my eyes are becoming strained from looking and squinting at his face and my hands began to tire out. I let out a groan and stood, walked towards him, leaned forward, my hands on my knees and I found myself looking at Off’s lips. I’m inches away from his face.

“Uhm, Gun?” He says and I was flabbergasted with what I did. I mumbled different words even I couldn’t understand and I could hear Oab laughing at a distance. “Get out, you bitch!” I cursed and covered my mouth because Off heard what I said. And instead of glaring me, he started laughing with Oab. And for the first time, my heart skipped a bit. I was panicking while in front of him. My cheeks felt hot and my body felt warm. I went back to my chair and continued painting his lips. “I’m sorry about that,” I said to Off while my face is being covered with the easel and the canvass. Thank God, if not with these, he could see my beet-red face. “But can you please describe your lips to me?” I asked him.

“My lips? Oh, that’s why you’re focusing too much on my lips.” Oab is still there laughing. I stood up to close the door but Off suddenly stopped me by wrapping his hands on my waist. “My lips are neither thin nor thick, and they’re pale.” He said not looking at me the first time then looked at me after describing his lips. Lo and behold, I felt the gates of heaven open. I looked at Oab’s direction and he could see that I was shocked so he grabbed me by the hand and we went outside, for the second time.

“What happened?” He says worriedly. “Hey, Gun! Earth to Gun?” I hear Oab but my mind’s not working right now. I could see Off’s face, clearly and it’s the exact one I’m painting. “I can see his face.” Oab’s face turned sour and walked away. “Hey, wait. Where are you going?” He’s not looking back. “Ugh, people in love stink.” He said while waving his hand at me. _In love? I am not!_ I just felt something when I saw his face and admiration doesn’t equate to love. I went back inside and Off was just sitting there busy scrolling on his phone. “Where were we?” I asked him as I took a sit in my painter’s chair. “You were asking for my lips.” I quickly stood up to establish that although I am small, I am feisty. “I am not.” I faintly screamed while I pumped my fists and stomped the floor like a kid.

“What I mean is I am not asking for your lips, I am asking you to describe your lips.” I said slowly to overemphasize the word “describe”. I quickly sat and continued painting. After an hour doing the finishing touches, I finally finished the painting. I grabbed the canvass out of the easel and looked at it. I walked towards Off who was still sitting. I compared the painting to the actual model. “Not bad.” He says. I smiled. “Yeah, not bad.” I turned to him and he’s looking at me. Again, my cheeks felt hot. I quickly walked towards my collection of paintings and set aside Off’s portrait. I looked at the clock and it’s already five in the afternoon. I asked Oab if he could drive Off to the city. “Oh no, that’s okay. I’m fine.” But I insisted. I gave Off an envelope with his salary in it. After that, Oab drove Off home.

I went back to my art room and looked at the _finished_ painting of Off. I can’t help but be proud of what I have done. You might be wondering if this is the first time I finished a painting. Actually, it’s not. I have tons of finished portraits but they were all subpar, but after my session with Off, I felt different thereafter. Off reminded me why I want to do Painting. I haven’t told this yet to him because I’m too shy and too prideful to admit it to him but when I painted him, even though he was just sitting there I felt his emotions so I did too. I channeled my feelings into the portrait of his and maybe too many feelings. _I’m screwed. Is it normal? That I have already this gooey feeling towards my model? But anyway, today’s the last time I’m seeing him anyway._


	3. Chapter 3

I heard Oab’s car in the driveway. It was already seven-thirty in the evening. I head downstairs and saw him holding a bag of food. “Ohh,” I said to him as we head to the kitchen. “Oh, I didn’t buy these.” He said and I was confused. “Off bought these with the money you gave.” I was shocked when he said that. Oab eyed me as if telling me that these were for me, not for ‘us’. _Good Lord, my heart skipped a little bit._ I scoured through the bags of food at the dinner table.

“Oh, Off said he wants you to paint him again.” I shook my head to show disagreement. Oab knows that I don’t paint the same model twice; I only do that with my parents. “Yeah figures, I told him that you don’t like painting the same person twice.” It’s better this way. After eating I went up to my room and called the number from the calling card I got from Jane. Even if it’s already eight in the evening, they still managed to pick up the phone. I asked them if there are available models for next week. The lady on the other line said yes, and they will be coming to my house next week.

The next week came in a blur and a new model is coming in for my painting session. He was okay; he has this chiseled jawline, a big wide smile, and thick eyebrows but I couldn’t finish the painting. The next model has a mole in his nose, pink lips, and big round eyes. The studio sent another model; he looks like Off for some reason, narrow eyes, thick eyebrows, and a chiseled jawline like the first one. This next model has a babyface, when he clenches his mouth his jawline appears, he has puppy eyes too and pouts a lot. _Weird._ For my sixth painting session, the studio sent a model that felt and looked familiar, like the other models before him, he wore an earring for an accessory and that jawline that seems familiar.

After six painting sessions, I could only finish my first painting which was Off, and for some reason all the models after him were quiet, they all look similar and their auras feel familiar. I asked Oab if he sees the faces of the models that came in every week. “No, they are all different.” He says and walked towards the kitchen to prepare dinner. I went upstairs and called the studio again. “Hello, can I request for Off Jumpol to be my model next week?” The lady on the other line agreed and would notify the model the next day. I hung up the phone and went to my art room to look at the unfinished paintings from my second to the sixth session. If you look at it they all look similar. _Am I tripping or something is going on?_

Off came the following week for my final painting session. It took me just two hours to finish his portrait. “Off, do you always wear that earring?” He touches his ear. “Uhh, yes. Why?” He asked and I could hear his voice break. “Do you see those unfinished paintings there?” He looked and nodded. “You all wear the same earring, and it baffles me that all of them have the same aura as you do. You all have the same height, the same jawline, thickness of your eyebrows—.” Before I could finish what I was saying, I looked at Off. “Wait. Were you all of them the whole time?” I asked him point-blank. “No.” He said straightforward. “Tell me Off, tell me the truth. Were you all of them? Were you tricking me?” I heard Oab come in to give us our refreshments. “Oab, tell me the truth.” I faced him. “Was he the five models I painted for the past few weeks?” I could see Oab’s eyes turn to Off. _Bullseye._

“Get out, both of you now,” I said calmly. Calmly, because the first thing I don’t want people to do is to trick me and use my face blindness to their advantage. “Gun, I can explain.” Off is pleading, so is Oab. I stood up and grabbed him by the arm. I don’t think he knows what he has done, even Oab. “No need to explain Off, I already know everything.” We were at the front door. “Oab, take him home. After that, I will not be joining you for dinner.” I told Oab.

“Please Gun, hear me out.” But no means no. I shut the front door and went up to my room and started crying. I never liked people lying to me, all my life I’ve been building my trust because when you have face blindness it’s hard to accept and trust people. It took me a long time to figure out and build my trust and it took Off and Oab weeks to destroy it. When I was a kid, I was almost kidnapped by unknown people because they lied that they were my parents. Having parents who are famous in the business field, people would do anything to get money, and I was the perfect bait. I was the weak link. _I was always the weak one._ So after that, I only trusted the people around me. And it’s scary if that happens to me again.

After an hour I heard Oab at my door. “Hey Gun, I’m sorry if I lied to you.” He starts. “I know you don’t want people lying, but Off, he likes you.” What a pathetic excuse. “He said that he was scared of you, that although you’re small he sees greatness in you and your painting.” As soon as I heard that I started crying. My mom would always tell me that find someone who sees greatness in you. _But mom, what if the person who sees my greatness shattered the trust I built?_ I stood up from my bed and opened my door. “Can you please leave me alone Oab?” I pleaded. “You said you’re going home, right?” He nodded. “Would it be possible if you go home tomorrow? I don’t want to see you right now.” I told him calmly, and I didn’t want to hurt my cousin’s feelings. Again, he nodded and walked away from my room.

I woke up with red and swollen eyes. I tried cooking eggs for breakfast but they burnt. Oab would usually cook our food but he’s nowhere to be found. The mansion is big and it’s filled with silence. I tried cleaning the house to distract myself from thinking about what happened the other day. As I was doing that, I began tearing the unfinished paintings in my art room. Off’s painting was the last one I tore. My tears ran like the droplets of rain I watched on Oab’s car window, but it’s dropping to Off’s portrait. Yes, I may have felt something towards him. _Admiration? Infatuation? Love?_ But right now I’m in pain. _I am neither mad nor angry, but Off, I am in pain._ I suddenly realized what I did with Off’s portrait. I ran to my room and grabbed a tape and scissors and I put the tore pieces together. If Oab and Off see me right now, they would think I’m pathetic. _And maybe that’s what I am._

I was lying on the floor of my art room the whole day, I haven’t had lunch yet and I’m not hungry either. The song that played in Oab’s car months before played in my mind. _All around me now, there’s nothing but pain. And I’m giving nothing back that you gave._ The lyrics resonated throughout the room. I looked it up and started playing it. _And you take, a little time, those mistakes, you know they were mine._ I can’t help but cry in the middle of the room. I’ve always been pushing people away because of my face blindness and trust issues and I am not sorry for that but I can’t live a life where all the people I love start walking away. I just need to understand myself more and give myself a little time. _And all the plans, that we made, turned to stone. Walking away to live a lie._

As soon as the song ends, my phone rang. It was Oab, I answered it and he told me that he will be back by next month. He’s giving me space and time to think about everything that has happened. And I’m glad he said that I know that this fight had drifted us, cousins, at first but unlike Oab I am prideful and can’t say the first word. “Sorry if I lied to you.” He says and I know he’s sincere. “Are you driving?” I asked him and he answered me with a muffled ‘yes’. “Don’t text or call when driving.” We paused for a few moments. “And sorry for the attitude the other day,” I told him. “You don’t have to be. It’s my fault, but I want you to know that Off has no ill intentions in deceiving you.” Oab continues. “He says that it’s easier to lie.” _Easier to lie._

I disagree with Oab said, I know the truth is hard to come out in our months but it’s never right to lie. “He said that he’s learning to bear the weight of his lies and is sorry for what he did.” I took a deep sigh. “Gun, take your time to process everything, I know you have feelings for him.” I sat immediately upon hearing him say that. _Did he always know that I might have a liking towards him?_ “I know Gun, I don’t have face blindness and I can see and read your face.” My cheeks began to feel hot and warm. _Was I lying to myself this whole time too?_

“Anyways, please take care of yourself, eat, and rest properly. Goodbye.” He hung up the phone and the room fell silent after our conversation. I went to the kitchen and ate cereals for lunch and dinner. I feel pathetic today. I always think that the tenderness of mornings will never come and some nights I will realize that I will never know love, not until I met him. And every night, when the lights on my art room have gone out, the painter in me grinds colors out of my body to bring shades and tints into the world and that will left me colorless and pale. Is this how my life ends? A life of a painter with no colors or whatsoever. _How ironic._

After eating I went to my room to rest and sleep early. As I was getting ready to sleep, Jane called. “Hey, I heard what happened. I’m sorry.” She’s crying on the other line. “Hey, don’t be sorry. It was never your fault.” She hiccups. “But if I hadn’t given you the calling card, this wouldn’t happen.” I don’t like it when people blame their selves for doing something that isn’t their fault in the first place. “Jane, I accepted it and you were never part of this mess. I assure you, we’re okay. Okay?” I can hear her voice lighten up.

“Hey, if you want to unwind and get a breather from all of this, you can come with me to the music fair tomorrow. Don’t worry; I’ll be there with you.” Jane is right; I need at least a breather. I need to breathe and it feels like this big mansion is suffocating me. “Okay, just text me the details and I’ll be there.” She hung up the phone and sent me the details for tomorrow’s event. As I lay here in my bed, I yearn to see the faces of the people I love. The whole world feels like it’s against me right now, and it’s so cold without the people around me. I need warmth. I need your embrace.

I yearn for my parents’ caresses right now, and my heart needs them here. I’m thinking of things that I shouldn’t be thinking just to get to where they are now. I would fly straight through the dark skies and soar through stormy clouds just to get to them somehow. The demons of my past are keeping me awake late at night, but perhaps the wisest thing to do right now is to make peace with them. Maybe sometime in the future I’ll get down and sleep with the monsters under my bed.

The morning came after and I was getting ready to go to the city. I wore my beret and some casual clothes for the music fair. I texted Jane where should we meet and she hasn’t replied yet. I took my car and went to the city. The skies are dark, and I think it will rain sometime soon. As I was traversing the highway, I saw police cars. I rolled down my car window and asked the blurry-faced police. “What happened?” He goes on to tell me that the water tank nearby has collapsed and the roads are slippery so we have to be careful. It was a drag because this caused traffic. I texted Jane that I’m going to be late. After thirty minutes, I finally got out of that messy traffic. I hope no one gets hurt when driving along the slippery highway.

I came just in time for the music fair. The live band on stage is singing twenty-one pilot’s Stressed Out. _My name’s blurry face and I don’t care what you think._ I gave the band a sour look because I don’t know if the song is mocking me or it’s ridiculing me. I was searching for Jane in the sea of people and she’s still not answering my calls. As I waded through the crowd, someone grabbed me by the arm. The arm felt familiar, it felt like it already touched me, to be more specific, the arm that was wrapped around my waist the first time I met him. It’s Off.

“What are you doing?” I forced myself out from his grip. “Please, hear me out.” He pleads. To be honest, I can see his face clearly; it’s not blurry like the face in the crowd. He’s teary-eyed and I could see his eyes are swollen and red, kind of like mine but I’m wearing sunglasses right now, he isn’t.

“I know lying to you was the last thing I want to do to you, but I hope Oab told you about how I feel.” _But I want to hear it from you, from your lips, from that mouth._ “I’m going to tell you everything from the start.” We found an empty bench just near the grounds of the music fair. “When I was modeling for my senior, he took the class to an exhibit.” He looks at me. “It was an exhibit at your Art School.” I didn’t know they went there and I didn’t notice that people came to our exhibit. “It was your graduating class’ exhibit to be specific. And one painting stood out to me the most. It was yours.” _When Sparrows Take Flight._ This was the title of my painting, it featured a portrait painting of my deceased parents and sparrows in the background. An ornithologist once said that sparrows symbolize joy and protection. My mom gives me joy while my father protects us. “I felt the meaning of the painting. When I knew that Jane and you were former classmates, I knew I had to know not only you but also your art.”

The live band started singing Billie Eilish’s Ocean Eyes. _I’ve been watching you._ “You’ve been watching me?” I asked him, not looking at him, but the ground beneath us. “For some time.” He replies. But I’m still reluctant to trust him again. “When you were all awarded during your exhibit, although your painting exudes joy, you weren’t. I thought that you were in pain.” Off said directly. _He’s right. I was in pain. I am now, too._ “And I thought I could help you out.” I stood and looked at him. “Off, don’t pity me because you saw me in pain.” He also stood up from the bench. The live band is still singing that damn song. _No fair. You really know how to make me cry when you give me those ocean eyes._ But right now, I can’t see ocean eyes, but a red, swollen eye that is about to cry. I walked away before I start crying. “I never pitied you at some point.” I stopped. “But I always thought you were greater and stronger than your disability.” _Always._ What he said made me cry and I didn’t want to turn to him. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

I texted Jane that I’ll be going home and not attend the music fair anymore. After spamming her with texts and calls, she replied. She said that she’s sorry because she wanted to help both of us. I’m not mad at her, to be honest. She’s just helping and I think our conversation earlier helped me calm down a little bit. The police cars are still there managing the heavy traffic ahead because of the water tank that collapsed. And as I approach the house it started raining. Before I went home I bought some dinner for me to eat. As I was eating, I can’t help but think about what Off said to me. Nothing comes easy in my life; nothing’s easy when it comes to me. I took a deep sigh and stuffed my face with chicken wings.

As the raindrops trickle in the roof, I thought deep. I’m starting to learn that the life I’m living before was tragic. That I kept isolating myself from the outside world, and I kept thinking that this art room of mine was my place of solitude but at some point, it became a prison. My head became a prison. And I was a prisoner. Off came to my life and everything changed. He cracked my body like a fortune cookie and found something meaningful inside of me, and I found something meaningful in his eyes, but his face, every day he becomes someone new to me.

I went to my room and started painting. No, I didn’t go to my art room because I feel suffocated in there. My phone rang and it was Off. I didn’t answer the first time. After a few minutes, my phone keeps ringing and ringing. I answered it. “Off, I said give me time okay!” And I hung up the phone. Thank God he stopped bugging me. I went downstairs to get a new glass of water for my paintbrushes. As soon as I returned to my room, my phone rang again. I picked it up and yelled at Off. “What part of--.” But before I can finish what I was about to say, I can hear sirens in the background, the rain outside starting to become heavier by the second.

“Excuse me, Sir? Do you know the owner of this phone?” I was too shocked to answer. “Y-yes.” I was stuttering. “The owner of the car is badly injured and there are no identification cards on him, he doesn’t even have a driver’s license inside his car.” I dropped the glass of water upon hearing the news. Off is badly injured. “Sir, can you go to the nearest hospital, and can you identify the owner of this phone.” I rushed downstairs to grab my car keys and started driving to the nearest hospital.


	4. Chapter 4

The sky is pitch black from raining nonstop. I suddenly remembered the water tank that collapse that made the road slippery, and with this heavy rain, there’s zero visibility when you’re driving your car. And then I passed by the accident, it involved seven cars, a bus, and a ten-wheeler truck. The scene was chaotic enough and my hands started to tremble and my eyes began to tear up. He can’t call Oab because he’s back in his hometown, I can’t even call Jane because the signal is being a shit right now. I’m already panicking inside and I hope Off is fine. _I pray that you’re fine._

I arrived at the hospital and the Trauma and ER departments are full packed. The doctors and nurses are running around tending to the victims of the vehicular accident. Some interns are tending to minor injuries and are suturing wounds to ambulatory patients. “Excuse me, dear, are you looking for someone?” A nurse asked me and I just nodded. “Do you know his name?” She asked while looking at her list of names. “Off. Off Jumpol.” She searches through her master list and can’t seem to find his name. “I’m sorry, there’s no Off Jumpol here on my list. But can you come with me to the morgue; maybe you can identify the dead bodies.” I froze when she said morgue. I tasted my vomit in my mouth. We went to the morgue and there were two bodies, but neither of them looks like Off. One was a female and the other was a kid. So I told the nurse that I don’t know them.

The nurse told me to wait in the lobby and she gave me a blanket. I was trying to hold my tears and I kept praying and hoping that Off is alive. I strolled around and tried to find him. I went through the Trauma department and kept whispering Off’s name. I look like a lost puppy right now. And with my face blindness, everyone’s face was blurry. I continued my search at the ER department; I’m trying to remember his face once again in my mind. I kept repeating to myself that he’s tall, has thin, pale lips, a pointed nose at he wears earrings. But my search for him was a waste. I can’t see anyone familiar. I started crying at the hallways of the hospital while looking for him. I ended up sitting near the ER department where no one can notice that I’m already breaking down and I have to live with the guilt that it was my fault why Off died. An hour passed by and no sign of Off and I decided to just go home.

“I’m already fine.” I turned around because I know this voice. I was searching for a familiar face in a sea of injured people and health care workers. I keep wading through the lobby because I know that voice. “I said I’m fine.” There, it’s him. I’m sure of it. And there he was, at the Plastics department getting his wound stitch. “Gun?” He said. _Oh, wow I missed you calling me with my name_. I was about to cry but I went near his hospital bed and started hitting his feet. The intern who was suturing him stopped me but Off stopped him first. “Can you leave us a few moments please?” He said to the intern. “Fine, but I’ll be back to finish your suture. I’m just going to grab some Vicryl first.”

“I thought you were dead?” I told him while my voice was breaking. I’m struggling to look at him because I can’t see him eye to eye, knowing that I did this to him. “I’m sorry.” I finally said to him. “You have nothing to worry about Gun. None of this is our fault.” He motioned me to sit down on the edge of the bed. “I know lying to you was a mistake.” He starts while trying to sit down properly. “And as someone who has face blindness, trust is crucial to you.” I nodded, I saw my reflection at the glass window in front of me, and gladly I can see myself. He then sits beside me. “I’ve been isolating myself after my parent died that’s why it’s hard for me to trust people easily,” I told him while wiping my tears. “And it’s hard to trust blurry faces.” I continued.

“I don’t care if you can’t remember my face.” He holds my hand. _What’s happening?_ “But please always remember my voice, the things I have done to you, the good and the bad, and the words I’ve said to you.” He holds my hand tightly this time and I can hear his voice breaking. He holds my face and I can see his crying eyes. “But most importantly, remember my feelings for you.” Right then there I kissed Off. His lips that I focused on too much the first time we met felt soft like his hands in my face. It tasted sweet and honest. _This time he’s being honest._

Sometimes I get confused when looking at Off, his face sometimes deceives me and I am left to wonder if what I’m feeling is longing or betrayal or perhaps mistrust, but when every day his face becomes new, I’ll always remember his feelings for me. I was the first one to break the kiss to catch my break. Off then starts laughing. “Why?” I asked him. “Nothing, I’m just happy.” He then smiles at me. “I know it’s too soon but, I love you, Gun.” I badly want to scream right now and bury my face in his chest but we’re in the hospital right now, and we’re both in between the process of healing and hurting. _I love you too, Off._

On his second stay in the hospital, Oab came back from his hometown to help me take care of this big ball energy that is my boyfriend. _I still feel gooey calling him my boyfriend though, because he’s my first and hopefully my last, just like mom and dad._ After three days of staying in the hospital, Off was already discharged. He frequently visits me in the mansion for me to paint him. He casually kisses my forehead before I start painting him. He told me that he was fired from the studio and I took him as my model. I still pay him though because he sends the money I give him to his little sister back at his hometown.

To be honest I do not regret isolating myself in this art room because it is where I met Off. We love, only how much we think we can, so we sometimes confine it into small spaces, like me, in my art room. Then we question ourselves why do we feel suffocated. Because when fear sits comfortably across the small room, we try and live with it and it takes courage to escape the room where your fear rests and it takes courage to cross to the other room just for you to be free from fear. And Off gave me that courage.

“Shall we begin?” I asked him as he posed, Oab then enters and to my surprise, Jane visited me. We hugged and I started painting Off while Jane and Oab sit comfortably while taking about their respective art mediums. After an hour of painting, Jane already bid her goodbyes and Oab started preparing lunch. We were left alone, finally. “Love me as if you always have been,” I was surprised when he started talking. “And love me like the love you bring in love.” He gave me a flying kiss and I swear I was about to burst like a can of tomato sauce. “I want to start fresh with you,” I caught him off guard. “I choose you,” I looked at him and smiled at him. “You’re so cool, I’m into you.” Off then giggles like a kid. I stood up from my painter’s chair and walked towards him.

“I’ve already finished your portrait, want to see?” I asked him. I took the canvass from the easel and he looked at it and hugged me. “It’s beautiful.” He lost his job as a model in the firm where he was working, but I made him my model now. There is still a pang of lingering guilt about what happened to him but I’m glad he embraced the scars on his face. Now, I can finally see the man I love. _Off, dear, your scars are beautiful._

Mom, Dad, I think I finally found someone who sees the greatness in me. I love him and I hope we can run away together, risk it all for our new found romance, for an eternity. I kissed Off’s scars and as we headed downstairs he said something. “Gun, if the world won’t accept you, I will.” He then kissed my forehead and I smiled. In the face of adversity, trust a few people and build a good relationship with them. Stay with the people who love you as a whole and even when you’re in pieces or even when you think you’re in shambles, remember that always keep the people who didn’t walk away.

_END_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Thank You for reading Every Day You Become Someone New! 
> 
> I appreciate it if you leave kudos and comments so that I can improve more in my writing skills. The inspiration for this short story is from JM De Guzman and Rhian Ramos' movie entitled "Kung Paano Siya Nawala" ("How She Left Me") and I wanted the main character of this short story to be a portrait painter, so you could see the irony of life. 
> 
> I wanted to emphasize the meaning of trust in this short story, as I have trust issues as well and I rarely trust other people. I want people to know that some have fragile and weak trust. According to Psychology, trust is defined as "an essential trustfulness of others as well as a fundamental sense of one's own trustworthiness" and if parents should fail to buil trust with their young ones they develop mistrust to people, hence, they become frustrated, suspicious and withdrawn. 
> 
> I also did a last-minute tweaking at the ending. At first, I didn't intend Off to have scars at the end, but I wanted that scar to be there as a symbol of faith, trust, and unconditional love, also it will help Gun clearly identify Off's face. 
> 
> Again, Thank you for reading. You can give me suggestions on how can I improve my writing skills. 
> 
> I will be taking a break first before I could start writing my next short story entitled "When Words Fail, Your Eyes Speak". You can follow me on twitter if you want: @taynewfever


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